To get to work, I have the option to drive down a few notable streets: Democratic Institutions Blvd., Right to Counsel Way, Civil Rights Movement Circle.
Just kidding. Those streets are called Obama, Adams, and Martin Luther King Jr Blvd., respectively. And of course they are. Because as much as our culture needs institutions, movements, and organized groups of people fighting for their rights, we love heroes. We want names and faces to symbolize all of our hopes and aspirations and accomplishments. In that way, the anti-apartheid movement becomes Nelson Mandela. The environmental justice movement becomes Greta Thunberg. The MAGA movement becomes Donald Trump.
Which makes sense. Movements are messy and intangible. They contradict themselves. They rarely have a clear birthday, and some stubbornly refuse to die. Heroes, on the other hand, we can wrap our heads around. We know the sound of their voices and the shape of their smiles. We know them by their hat, or their suit, their raised fist, their Afro, their red lipstick. We know what they’re fighting for (even if that thing has a way of descending into slogan). And most of all, we know their names.
So what happens when we realize that a hero has done villainous things? That’s the question that so many are grappling with this week, as accusations of sexual abuse against Cesar Chavez have surfaced. For decades, Chavez was upheld as a courageous civil and labor rights leader, and co-founder of the United Farm Workers (UFW) labor union. He was known as the man who led a five year grape strike and boycott to secure higher wages and better working conditions for farmers (many of whom were Mexican- and Filipino-American.) All over the country, people were preparing to honor his legacy at the end of March by celebrating Cesar Chavez Day.
But a brand new New York Times investigation has reported extensive evidence that Chavez groomed and sexually abused women and girls, including the daughters of fellow labor organizers, and his fellow labor leader, Dolores Huerta. (NPR has not independently investigated the allegations against Chavez, who died in 1993.) Huerta — an icon in her own right — issued a statement earlier this week, detailing the abuse she says she suffered 60 years ago, and why she felt obligated to keep it secret. “Building the movement and securing farmworker rights was my life’s work,” Huerta wrote, “The formation of a union was the only vehicle to accomplish and secure those rights.” Huerta said she didn’t want to do anything that would jeopardize that movement — and discrediting its charismatic leader certainly risked doing so.
And unfortunately, the calculus that Huerta made is one that generations of people, disproportionately women, will be familiar with. So many have survived abuses by those in power, but their commitment to a larger idea or institution or group or movement has convinced them to stay silent. The fear is that without a Cesar Chavez, there is no UFW. And maybe these women are right.
But it seems like a challenge to all of us, to resist the urge to turn ideas into icons. We shouldn’t believe in better labor practices because one person said so. Our beliefs should be strong enough to withstand the failures of individuals, and enduring enough not to require invisible victims. After all, as so many have pointed out, the Farm Workers movement always required the coordination, organizing, and courage of thousands of people — people with strengths and flaws and shortcomings, who were united by a common purpose. And even as Cesar Chavez Day disappears, the need for labor rights remains as strong as ever.
Newsletter continues after sponsor message
ON THE POD
Getty Images
As you may remember, last week I wrote about how Secretary of Defense Pete Hegseth recently put Scouting America — formerly known as the Boy Scouts — "on notice." The once great organization was becoming too woke, he said, and had been tarnished by embracing DEI. On this episode, we're talking to Benjamin René Jordan, author of Modern Manhood and the Boy Scouts of America, about the Scouts' surprisingly progressive history. And we ask him about the complex relationship between scouting and the military.
Support discussions that matter - try a subscription to Code Switch+. Dive deep into the conversation with none of the sponsor interruptions, and know that you’re making this all possible with your support. Learn more at plus.npr.org/codeswitch and start with 30 days free by using the code "freemonth".
Fam, I want to hear from you. What's on your mind as we step into springtime? What's keeping you up, besides seasonal allergies and existential dread? Send a note to CodeSwitch@npr.org and let me know everything that's on your mind this week.
I'll be back next week, heaven help me, ready to process the news with you.
-Leah Donnella, senior editor
Written by Leah Donnella and editedby Dalia Mortada
Stream your local NPR station.
Visit NPR.org to find your local station stream.
Subscribe to Code Switch+. Your support helps make our show possible and unlocks access to our sponsor-free episodes.
What do you think of today's email? We'd love to hear your thoughts, questions and feedback:codeswitch@npr.org
Enjoying this newsletter? Forward to a friend! They cansign up here.
You received this message because you're subscribed to Code Switch emails. This email was sent by National Public Radio, Inc., 1111 North Capitol Street NE, Washington, DC 20002
